


Then falls thy shadow, the night is thine

by a6_oud, kageillusionz



Series: Gone With the Wind AU [2]
Category: Gone With the Wind, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fusion, Bigotry & Prejudice, Dubious Ethics, Dubious Morality, F/M, Genosha, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Pining, Protective!Erik, Slow Burn, Smitten Erik, Wordcount: 50.000-100.000
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-13 22:31:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1242961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/a6_oud/pseuds/a6_oud, https://archiveofourown.org/users/kageillusionz/pseuds/kageillusionz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When war finally broke out between the Brotherhood and the Mutant Resistance Alliance, Charles Xavier, young omega, must overcome trials and tribulations to get what he wants for himself and for his family. Too bad many of those trials come in the form of Erik Lehnsherr, older alpha with the reputation of a rogue.</p><p>OR X-Men meets Gone with the Wind in an A/O world set in Genosha.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Then falls thy shadow, the night is thine

**Author's Note:**

> This is it, the beginning of the end. Well. Not really. But it's close to it.
> 
> My heartfelt thanks goes to **A6, Roz, Fricorg, Di, Q, Ike, Shiblets, Ca, Souffle, Treacle, Chem, Twinny and Ao-kun** for being endlessly patient, endlessly prodding and endlessly supportive, without whom I would have never have managed to get this out... late as it is. In particular, thank you to **A6, Roz and Fricorg** for wading through everything and betaing this bad boy. All lingering mistakes are my own.
> 
> This time, title as chosen by **A6** , from the poem _Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae sub Regno Cynarae_.
> 
> This is a direct continuation from Part One. It is highly recommended that you start there.

On a beautiful Friday afternoon, Charles Xavier married Sebastian Shaw in an elaborate wedding ceremony. The who’s who of the bustling town of New London were in attendance. A few hours after the reception, Charles sat in the relative comfort of Sebastian’s home. It was now his home, Charles reminded himself. He sat in the living room, watching as Sebastian counted out five hundred dollars on the table by the fire. The money would pay for the taxes on Westchester set by the loathsome Mutant Resistance Alliance.

And family was far more important than a run-down old sawmill in Charles’ eyes. He loved Westchester. From the dogwood trees that lined the drive, and the apple orchard in neat rows to the house that he and his adoptive omega sisters, Angel and Anna-Marie, had grown up in. Charles wasn’t above doing everything to keep Westchester under the Xavier family name and in his possession.

In fact, he dared the MRA to set the taxes on his family home higher. It wouldn’t be another year or so before taxes were due. Charles was positive the sawmill would be his by that time, turning over a large enough profit that he’d be ready. And if by some stroke of misfortune that the sawmill was not his, he would find another way. Perhaps borrow money from Captain Erik Lehnsherr, a known millionaire. The alpha who had made his fortune blockade running and profiteering during and after the the Great Genoshan Civil War.

He and Erik were cut from the same cloth. They were headstrong, intelligent, and knew an opportunity when they saw one. With personalities so similar, one would think they would repel one another. And yet, they were often found in one another's company. No matter at the latest bazaar or at an intimate dinner seated around Aunt Letty’s table, they were often found in one another’s company. They were like bookends of the same soul, conversing, bickering, and sharing jokes.

If a chessboard was present, chances were high that they were engaged in a match. Quite unlike Charles' new husband; Sebastian was rubbish at chess. Sebastian abhorred conflict. He had lived through the Great Genoshan Civil War, and was weak-willed even without the use of telepathy. Charles intended to use that to his advantage as much as possible.

Sebastian ran an emporium that managed to turnover profit before he had married Charles. And in a rare glimpse of wit and forethinking, Sebastian having set his sights on a sawmill to capitalize on the war restoration. Raw materials were an expensive commodity now. Fire had wrought destruction on the buildings and empty, ashen lots now stood in their place.

The sawmill could have been Sebastian's were it not for Westchester's taxes. Sebastian rescinded the offer on the mill after Charles had made his displeasure known. Five hundred dollars was but a small price to pay to maintain a peaceful household and a happy husband. Omegafolk were schooled to be sweet and affectionate creatures. Yet Sebastian found that not to be the case, learning exactly how taciturn and cold Charles could be at the drop of a hat. Sebastian was a clever alpha and knew which side of Charles he preferred.

The money was then sealed in an envelope and placed in Charles’ hand. Charles, in turn, entrusted his human servingfolk, Moira, with the envelope. She was trustworthy and had served his family for as long as Charles could remember. No doubt she would have seen it as a personal affront if anyone suggested that she run with the money. Along with the money, she brought also the news of his marriage to Sebastian. She would see to that Remy received the money. Remy was once a Brotherhood soldier. Now that the war was over, he had ingratiated himself to the Xavier family and became the overseer of the day-to-day. Charles had come to rely upon Remy's judgement and reliability.

A day later, Remy wrote back to inform Charles of the situation. The letter found him early in the morning just as Charles was making tea in an unfamiliar kitchen. It read: _The taxes have been paid, Westchester is safe_ (to the chagrin of those that had increased the taxes and wanted to buy Westchester cheap). _All is well with the family_. Remy's letter was short, hardly long enough for Charles to discern his opinions about becoming the new Mr. Shaw. Remy would understand the sacrifices behind Charles' actions. Remy was an understanding, practical kind of alpha who would see the necessity of the marriage for what it was.

And then there was Raven Darkholme. Charles paused, teacup hovering between saucer and his mouth. He sat upon the front porch of his new home, watching the morning light creep over his neighbour’s half finished roof. Golden light filtered through gaps in the slats. Charles had been in love with Raven for as long as he could remember being interested in alphas. He was certain that she loved him. Despite Charles’ second marriage and Raven’s own to the omega Henry McCoy. Despite the son they had as a result of that marriage; Charles had convinced himself that one day they would be together.

What would she think of him now?

Charles suppressed a sigh into the lip of his cup, reminiscing of the kiss they had shared not so long ago. Of the words that Raven had told him. He had kept himself pure in the hopes that one day Raven would— Charles set the cup down and frowned into the dark liquid. That wasn’t true. There had been that one incident with Erik some time ago when he had been in heat and it meant nothing. Charles felt nothing at all for Erik, except perhaps contempt, and even then...

He shrugged it off. Just as the letter from Angel that accompanied Remy’s lay in his trunk forgotten and away from Sebastian’s wandering eyes.

The letter, he had been expecting, of course. Misspelt words were as common as threats upon his person. Every poorly constructed sentence began with violence and ended with threats. The words were often smudged and blotchy from tears. The observations were hurtful and venomous as they were true. Charles couldn't help the sad smile that tugged at the corners of his mouth at how astute his sister had become. Their relationship had never been great to begin with and this turn for the worse didn't bode well for their later years. Charles doubted she could have accomplished the same in taking care of her own. Angel wouldn't have seen past her own greed for a new dress or a new carriage to realize the more important things at stake.

Charles watched as the waking townsfolk of New London meandered past. Some tipped their hats at him and others gave an acknowledging nod that he returned in kind. He was content knowing Westchester was safe by his hand. Soon Sebastian would be awake also, getting ready to leave for the emporium.

Upon his lap slept Professor Jr, the puppy he had received from the Summers family for taking care of Alexander and Gabriel. Charles stroked his silky ears, deep in thought. New London was one of many Genoshan towns recovering from the devastation of war. Alphafolk worked from sun up to sun down. Omegafolk did the best that they could in supporting their husbands and wives and family. There was a lot of resentment aimed at the betafolk, servingfolk and the humans that had made up the MRA. In effect they were now all equals, but the alphafolk often murmured in dark corners about their displeasure.

New structures were going up every day. Ashen plots converted into solid foundations for houses, saloons, stores, warehouses. Mutations were often used. Land-owners sought out those that had super-strength or super-speed to cut down costs. New London was evolving and Charles found it thrilling to be in the eye of the storm.

He never realized when he had first set out in search of money that he would be staying permanently in New London. To be sure, it was exciting to be at the centre of things: attending events, shopping for the latest fashion in town, and gossiping. But it would never be home. It could never come close to being home. Charles felt exiled now that he had become someone else’s husband. The feelings of homesickness churned deep in his stomach. Westchester was incomparable to living with an alpha he didn't know.

He was grateful towards Sebastian and felt some sort of affection for the alpha. Not the the type of affection that one ought to feel for one's spouse — Charles couldn’t see himself bearing Sebastian any children — but it was affection all the same.

Children were problematic and noisy and smelly. Charles wouldn’t know what to do with one, even if omegas were socially looked upon to breed upon marriage. It was best for everyone involved that children never happened. _No, thank you,_ Charles thought vehemently, tucking his legs underneath him.

Looking back, the lead up to the wedding had stirred the rumour mills within New London. Newly settled omegafolk gossiped relentlessly with the older omegafolk, eager to learn the where, the what and most importantly the who. Everyone had known Sebastian had betrothed one of the Xavier omegas, and that Sebastian expected to marry in the autumn when he had the money to support a new family. Mrs. Braddock had once cornered Sebastian in his store and asked frankly what he meant by marrying one Xavier omega when he betrothed another. Charles' thorough work on Sebastian's affections meant his husband had been quizzical and confused to the mention of Angel's name. Telepathy was Charles’ strongest tool and he used it unscrupulously to his advantage.

As the hours melted into days, and days into weeks. Charles began making a habit of gleaning information from Sebastian’s mind while he slept. In a populous town such as New London, scandals were a dime a dozen: murders, thefts, adultery. He cared not a whit for what the people thought of him, knowing his convenient marriage would blow over. Eventually.

 _Let them talk_ , he thought, rolling onto his side to face the window away from Sebastian's snoring form. Charles had far too many pressing concerns to be worried about the opinions of others. There was nothing immoral about marrying an alpha for his money. Omegafolk did it every day to improve their social status and gain monetary stability. And of course in the case that any accidental children were born.

The taxes may have been paid on Westchester, however, there was no telling what could happen a month or even a year from now. He had to be prepared and that meant making as much money as possible between now and then. _Shaw’s Emporium_ had the potential to make more money. Of that, Charles was convinced. Like a game of chess, he needed to be two steps ahead of his opponent lest anyone thought of stealing Westchester from him. It was in his best interests to get the sawmill quickly to take advantage of the outrageous prices on lumber. Charles knew a chance to profit when it stared him in the face, gift-wrapped and ready for the taking.

Over dinner one night, Charles inquired tactfully about the current status of the sawmill. None of his plans would come to fruition if someone had purchased it before he had the chance to. They couldn’t afford to purchase it, but Sebastian had blithely mentioned people that owed him money. And who exactly these people were, well, Sebastian was evasive about divulging exactly who. But he had reassured Charles that there were repayment plans put into place.

"Don't worry your pretty little head over it," Sebastian said, dodging another attempt at wheedling information out of him. "They will pay me back as soon as they can afford it. The dead can't repay the living, Charles." Charles had pouted but had let the matter slide in favour of feeding Professor Jr. scraps under the dinner table.

Sebastian should have known better than to believe Charles would have let the matter slide. That following morning, Sebastian found Charles in the study. An assortment of older account books spread over the table.

“Why do none of these figures meet?” Charles demanded, pointing to a page filled with red marks. “You have stock disappearing every month. Stock that you can be using to make money for the mill.” To say that Sebastian had not been expecting the Spanish Inquisition so early in the morning would have been an understatement. To say that Charles possessed a quicker mind, a better brain for figures and was a quick study was an understatement of an understatement.

When it came to addition or subtraction of long columns of numbers, Charles could calculate the total as quick as a flash in his head. Much faster than Sebastian could have done had he pencil and paper to sum all the numbers individually. And the concept of fractions came so easily to Charles that it made Sebastian feel inadequate both as an alpha and as a business owner.

“I’m… I’m not sure, pet. I’ll ask someone about that.”

“Make sure that you do.”

Sebastian didn’t like it when Charles showed him up. During the night, Charles would often dip into the chilly pool of Sebastian’s mind and soak in every complaint Sebastian harboured. His husband cared greatly what the friends in town thought of him, some of whom were convinced that Charles was using him for money, and others had quite many rude things to say.

It was curious then to find Sebastian choosing to believe that Charles had fallen in love with him suddenly. It was an oddly childish notion that ought to have made Charles feel more guilty than he did. Charles was entitled to Sebastian’s loyalty. Sebastian chose to ignore a larger part of the gossip that was adamant Charles had married him for his money. Instead he preferred to dwell on Charles’ lovelier assets like his eyes and his mouth. He decided not to disillusion Sebastian of this fact and that night, hadn't complained when Sebastian gamely curled an arm around his waist to keep Charles close.

Charles rewarded Sebastian's good behaviour. He was a thoughtful spouse: Sebastian's house slippers were always warm and ready at the end of a busy work day; he remembered how Sebastian liked his morning coffee; And on particularly good days, Charles would get Moira to make Sebastian's favourite chicken liver dish for dinner. It was a quaint, monotonous and dull lifestyle.

Until Sebastian contracted pneumonia out of the blue.

During the first year of the war, Sebastian had been sick in hospital and was eager to stay out of it till the end of his days. Atop Sebastian was the winter blanket and three other blankets in an attempt to sweat out the sickness. It had been a battle in and of itself, and Charles sat dutifully by his husband's side. Sebastian was sleeping it off. He was happy to guzzle down every boiling concoction Moira or Aunt Letty brought him, eager to believe in their healing properties.

A week passed and yet there was no sign of Sebastian getting any better. The young alpha placed in charge of the Emporium came by dutifully every night after she closed the store to report on the day's earnings. Sebastian was worried and babbled about how everyone was out to get his money.

Charles hid a smile as a plan began to form in his head. He crooned, readjusting the blankets around Sebastian’s shoulders and passing a cool, dry hand over Sebastian's forehead. He said, "there, there, sweetheart. You aren't in any state to visit the store and you know it. Whatever will I do if it got worse, hmm? How about this, I will go into town and see how things are for you."

Sebastian, grumbling about the Emporium being no place for an omega (and what a notion that was!), eventually acquiesced and fell into a light restless sleep. Charles smiled as he exited the master bedroom to find his thick overcoat. Finally, this was the chance to see the current account books. What luck that Sebastian was far too weak to get out of bed! With no time better than the present, Charles set off, taking a carriage headed towards the Emporium with Professor Jr. trotting dutifully by his side.

 _Shaw’s Emporium_ was located close to the fire station; he had once visited Erik there when the MRA had jailed him. Its new roof looked out of place amongst the gray bricks and charred slate roof tiles of its surroundings. There was a hitching post outside it where a long line of mules and horses waited for their owners to return. Some had their noses buried in the water trough and others socializing.

The new wooden verandah outside the emporium was imposing. It would have blocked out the winter sunshine. The emporium was dark and looked foreboding as it were during the day. Twin windows in the roof allowed streams of warm light into the store.

The space inside was big, lit by several lamps during the night. The floorboards covered in mud and sawdust and whoever knew what else. The shelves were filthy with dust and dirt that invited spiders to make their homes in the corners. Charles wrinkled his nose as he observed the smudge of grey gathering upon his fingertip. This was evidence that the employees were neglecting their duties. Charles made a mental note to make them clean before he returned home. The only redeeming factor was the storefront. Bits of crockery and cloth sat enticingly in the window, inviting pedestrians to peer in and make a purchase.

It was the back of the store, behind the counter and through the little closed side door, where Charles found chaos’ reign. Sebastian had no clear inventory system and the stock roamed wherever it liked. Boxes upon boxes were stacked up as high as the walls would go, all threatening to collapse at the slightest wrong movement. Charles carefully picked at a pillar near the door and found a saddle in amongst a box of nails. Further along, he discovered a small box of dog related goods lying amongst a jumble of seeds and gardening tools.

 _It’s amazing that Sebastian managed to run a business at all,_ Charles thought as he moved to the office near the back. _This place is a dreadful mess. There is room out front where the stock could be moved much more quicker and easier. If only Sebastian had kept everything free from dust!_

Picking up the lamp he had with him, Charles headed out to speak with the young alpha. Lourdes was her name and she was apprehensive at first about allowing Charles to see the account books. A quick glare and a sharp word silenced her. She was likely to be of the shared opinion that omegafolk shouldn't be allowed to get their minds around business. Charles sent her out to get dinner, removing her from the equation.

Charles smiled to himself as he started a fire in Sebastian's office and took off his boots to warm his toes. He tucked himself into the large leather chair and spread open one of the heavy account books across his lap. Omegafolk could run a business like any other person and Charles was going to show everyone just that. For now, Charles would endure the disapproval and stereotypes.

He looked through the pages carefully and turned each page slowly, reading the names of the people that owed Sebastian. There were quite many families that owed substantial amounts of money to Sebastian. It was obvious that Sebastian possessed no business sense at all. The combined debts that people owed Sebastian were not as small as Sebastian had lead him to believe.

 _Why do they keep buying if they know they can't afford it?_ Charles wondered irritably. _And why does Sebastian keep selling to them if he knows well that they cannot pay? If the Worthingtons can afford that house party a few days back, they can most certainly afford to repay us. Does Sebastian even realize that they are taking advantage of him? There is more than enough here that he could have easily bought the sawmill._

He balked at the idea of Sebastian running the sawmill. _Why, if Sebastian runs the Emporium like a charity, how will he have any hope of making profit quickly if at all? He wouldn't even know how to price the lumber if the numbers flew up and smacked him in the face. Why, I bet I could do an even better job at that!_

And that there was a thought.

Hadn't he just spent several months doing the work of an alpha by managing Westchester? How splendidly Charles had done that job too. His eyes shifted from the numbers to stare into the fire. Indeed, he could run the sawmill better than Sebastian could ever hope to.

Despite his upbringing, Charles realized that alphafolk were not omniscient as they liked to believe, and omegafolk could do more than sit around. In fact, omegafolk could do everything that alphafolk could do except for bearing children. And no omega in their right mind would have any children if they could help it.

If Charles was the owner of the sawmill, Charles knew he would be able to turn over profits unseen by any alphafolk run business. It would be money that Charles made on his own and money that he would see fit go wherever he pleased. There was only one small problem. Charles didn’t have enough money of his own to afford the steep price tag. As a plan it was a good one, but unfeasible. And so Charles reluctantly let that idea slide off the table.

Sebastian would see to it that his name was plastered over the mill’s awning just as soon as he collected all the debts owed to him and purchase it. To Charles, that was the only way guaranteed to get money, and money fast. Once the mill was within his grasp, Charles would ensure Sebastian took on projects that paid and paid well, rather than allow the mill to end up like the Emporium had.

Charles committed the names and figures of the debtors to his memory. As soon as he returned home, he would ask Sebastian about the matter of debt collecting. Even if some of the people on the list were old friends. Even if Sebastian would try to convince him that it was no place for an omega to poke into the businesses of alphafolk. Charles would make him see that they could all afford to pay him back if he just pressed them hard enough for it. The idea would likely upset Sebastian, the old fool preferred it when his friends owed him as a favour. Sebastian would lose that money forever if time allowed and that was unacceptable.

He can imagine it now. Sebastian would attempt to convince him that no one could afford to pay them back. And in all likeliness, that was going to be true. Charles was no stranger to being poor. If these families could afford to pay their bills, then they could surely pay Sebastian back bit by bit. And everybody would still have some leftover silverware or family heirloom or real estate; Sebastian could take those instead of gold.

Charles imagined how Sebastian would moan about all the effort it would take. _How could he just take the property and material items of all his friends? That would seem immoral in this day and age, pet._ Charles imagined him saying. If Sebastian was too soft-bellied to do it himself, then Charles would happily become the driving force, Sebastian's iron will. If Sebastian ever expected to get anywhere and make money, then Charles will do what was necessary to ensure things happened.

So lost in his own thoughts with his tongue tucked snugly into the corner of his mouth, Charles didn't hear the sound of the shop door opening. Not until a cold wind made its way past the clutter in the store room and tickled his bare fingers. The fire swirled upwards, sending sparks flying towards the chimney.

"Hello?"

Charles knew that voice. He closed the account book with a loud snap and fumbled into his boots. There, on the other side of the counter, stood Erik Lehnsherr.

"You—"

He looked gorgeous, standing tall in his new clothes and a greatcoat that defined his broad shoulders. Erik held his hat over his chest where a clean pleated shirt sat, and bowed low.

"My dear Mrs. Shaw," Erik said mockingly, "Ahh, sorry, _Mr._ Shaw. What with all the rumours before, I often get the title wrong. Forgive me." His white teeth gleamed in the low light as he started to laugh merrily.

Charles felt his hackles rise already, the little hairs standing on end at his nape. "A pity that you haven't been hanged. What are you doing here?"

"Why, I came to find you as soon as I found out about your marriage from Aunt Letty to offer my congratulations."

"How dare—" Charles' cheeks were red with shame, the memory of Erik's refusal playing hot in his mind.

"I dare very much. But let us not waste time and squabble over semantics. I propose a truce." Erik's grin was wide and shameless, and far too infectious for Charles couldn't help but feel an answering one tug on the corner of his lips.

"You still haven't answered me as to why you aren't in jail."

"May I sit down? It's going to be a long tale."

"No, you may not."

Regardless, Erik folded his tall frame into the chair where Charles had sampled Sebastian's Earl Grey tea that fateful afternoon. There was nothing but to join Erik and, begrudgingly, Charles pulled out the tea set.

"You couldn't even wait for me to get out," Erik said with a little sigh over the sound of water being boiling. "Omegafolk sure are fickle. Especially the clever ones."

Charles pretended not to hear him as he pretended to be busy looking for the tea strainer.

"Now, Charles. If you could, just between friends — between intimate friends such as us — couldn't you have waited until I got out of jail? Surely the scales measuring the allure of being tied down to old Sebastian Shaw and being in an illicit relationship with me would tip in my favour?"

Charles fought valiantly against the blush that threatened to stain his cheeks red when he mentioned their past intimacy. Erik's mockery, as always, now made him annoyed.

"Ridiculous."

"And curiously, you are perhaps the only omega that I know of that has not married one alpha, but two, both of whom you hold no love or affection at all for. Is it a common omega occurrence or perhaps have I been misjudging the delicacy which befits our Genoshan omegafolk?"

"Erik!"

"Ah, and there is my answer. I have always believed the opposite of the stereotypes our society portrays omegafolk as sensitive, delicate creatures. Why, in fact, omegafolk possess a backbone and an iron will that matches if not surpasses that of any alphafolk," Erik paused to grin at Charles. "Genoshans have such a strange concept of what ought to transpire between an alpha and an omega. Perhaps the Europeans had the right idea all along. Love for pleasure but marry for convenience. I suppose your roots are showing then."

Charles stiffened. How he wished he could retort that he most certainly did not marry for money, for convenience, that there was genuine affection between him and Sebastian. And yet. Erik knew the truth and any statements Charles made would undoubtedly bring more unwarranted remarks from him.

"Is that right," Charles commented as he narrowed his eyes at Erik. "Now tell me, how ever did you manage to get out of that jail?"

Erik waved his hand vaguely in the air. "They let me go this morning. It took some simple blackmailing in the right places, a friend in a sensitive position now up in Hammer Bay, if you must know. Although, you could surely pull all this information out of my head, couldn't you?"

Charles gave a wry smile. Erik would be insufferable if he knew that he had made it onto the short list of people that he swore would never read his mind. "I, unlike some that I know, do have morals. What happened after?"

"Well, I bought quite a lot from this lovely lady for the Brotherhood. But as soon as she heard that I had run into a spot of trouble, she used her influence to ensure my swift release. After all, Charles, your influence upon another is everything. Whether you are guilty or innocent is merely a question of whether the opposite side can prove that you are."

Charles gave him a dubious look. "I take it from your statement that you are less than innocent, if at all."

"And you would be most correct. For you see, my liebling, I did in fact kill that beta for he was tossing slander and being frightfully disgusting to an omega gentlewoman. And I would do the same again if such a scene unfolded in front of me, for someone must stand up. And whilst I am on the topic of confessing about my past misdemeanours, I shot one of the MRA in the leg after we had words. Some other poor blighter may have been hanged for it since they never did charge me with that."

Charles felt his blood run cold. How could Erik be so blasé about the number of people he had killed? Sure. Charles realised it would have come as part of the territory of joining the Brotherhood, but to speak so boldly about it? Charles knew he couldn't take the moral high ground here. For there was still the living proof of him essentially wiping a man of his memories, his personalities. Cameron Hodge was merely just a name for a man who knew nothing of himself except for the work, the dedication he put into the orchards and fields of Westchester.

"And seeing as I appear to be wiping my slate clean," Erik continued, his long fingers tracing the outer rim of his tea cup, "and by no means does this mean yapping what I'm about to tell you to anyone, including your dear Aunt. For posterity, I did in fact have the money."

"The money?" The mere mention of it made Charles' eyebrows creep upwards towards his hairline.

"Yes." Erik sounded smug, and Charles supposed he had the right to be so. "The money that the MRA kept accusing me of being in my possession. They only way to keep my money safe was to keep my mouth shut about it. Had the MRA managed to locate the money and tried to empty the account of everything it had, I would have happily brought down with me several of the members. Now, some of them are rather high ranked down at Hammer Bay. Had I not been in jail, I would have happily been able to give you a loan. But had I withdrawn any of that, they would easily be able to trace where it came from and, well, I'm sure not a cent would find its way into your hands."

"Do you— You actually have the Brotherhood gold?"

Erik shrugged. "Not all it mind you. There are a handful or so ex-blockade runners that have plenty of that money in many accounts spread throughout the world. England and Canada just happen to be where I have most of mine banked away. There is close to half a million in my accounts. Had you only restrained yourself from rushing into the nearest wedlock, that half-million dollars could have had your name on it."

Charles couldn't imagine how anyone could have that amount of money, not ever since the end of the war and everywhere he looked, Charles could only see poverty and hunger. To think, that all Charles had in his possession was a store that was in sore need of upheaval and a husband who was sick. How could Erik Lehnsherr be so carefree and taunt him in such a cruel manner?

"A thief you are," Charles declared, longing for words that could hurt Erik just as much as it was hurting him.

"Oh?" Erik raised an eyebrow and a cunning smile. "Most of that money is mine, that I made whilst purchasing goods for a low price from our enemies and then in turn turning that over into profit. It was all about foresight, Charles. Now, you must consider the cotton I took and slipped past through the blockade. Up towards the cotton mills in Liverpool which were all but crying for more. I had my strictest orders to sell and leave the gold in English banks, of course underneath my own name to build up my credit. The cotton I was bestowed with was to aid our alphafolk with shoes and rifle and ammunition, with medical supplies and machinery that was deemed important at the time of the war.

"And the time when it was impossible for me to slip past the blockade at all, except perhaps with the aid of Azazel — but there is only so much that one mutant can do. The money laid mostly untouched in accounts off Genoshan soil. Was it my fault that I couldn't get a single boat in and out of Hammer Bay? Should I have withdrawn everything I had like a spooked simpleton and allowed the MRA to capture all that I owned? Well, now that I have the money within my grasp, who should I give it to? The Brotherhood? That is almost done and dusted. I have done my utmost in keeping the money out of the MRA's hands, I'm not donating to them if it very well kills me. So who else than shall I give the money to? I would despise it if people got the wrong impression that I was in fact a thief."

Charles was itching to walk away or run his hands through his hair in frustration. How could Erik always remain one step ahead of him? There was always something inherently wrong with Erik's arguments, but he couldn't find out what it was in particular that was wrong.

"There are families who need money," Charles said slowly. "You could consider distributing enough such that they do not starve. The Brotherhood may be gone, but there are members of their family who still remain."

Erik looked at Charles incredulously, and then in the next moment, threw his head back and laughed.

"Oh, liebling. You must be grasping at straws if you are waving around hypocritical statements such as that." Erik laughed, wiping at the corners of his eyes with his thumb. "Had I not told you that I found omegafolk who tell the truth much more appealing? Always tell the truth, Charles. There's no need to be shy; be frank around me. The Charles I knew never could give a toss about the Brotherhood, let alone their family members who were left behind. I'm certain that you would no doubt throw a tantrum if I told you that I would be donating all of my money away and you wouldn't see a cent."

Charles seethed from the implications of Erik's statement. How dare Erik think that he was some money hungry omega? He was trying to do right by his own family! "I don't want your money."

"Is that so? I bet you were thinking of a multitude of different ways in order to get rid of Mr. Shaw in order to lay your claim to my fortune."

Charles felt his temper flare up and he stood up, drawing himself to his full height. "I would never. If that is all you wish to say to me, then I will wish you have a good day."

Erik was upon his feet a moment later, a small chuckle on his face. A hand descended upon Charles' shoulder and pressed down, and Erik laughed as Charles sat back down unwillingly.

"Honestly, Charles, one would expect with your abilities that you would be rather accustomed to hearing about the truth in the minds of those around you. And do you not frequently speak the truth about others? I am hardly insulting you, for I find this a rather refreshing quality to find in an omega such as yourself."

Charles was only slightly pleased at Erik's praises.

"I also did not come here to gloat, but to wish you a fulfilled life and, well, happiness with your chosen alpha. And just out of curiosity, did your sister Angel have anything to say about the matter?"

"She didn't say anything," Charles replied, although it was evidence from the way Erik's eyes twinkled at the small quirk of his lip that he saw through the lie.

Erik's eyebrows rose upwards. "How magnanimous of her." He did not sound like he was convinced but let the topic slide all the same. Erik knew Charles had done what was needed of him for his family. It was possible that Erik was the only person that Charles could ever admit the truth to for Erik never seemed to think any less of him. It was a puzzling thought, for Erik was often insulting, teasing or tormenting him in some shape or form. But they had kissed! Surely, he must have held some affection for him. Or was there a different motive? Charles stared into the bottom of his teacup where the leaves sat motionless, yielding no answer to his conundrum.

"Now tell me, did you get the money you needed for the taxes?" Erik frowned. His tone of voice was more matter-of-fact and businesslike, unlike the teasing that Charles had suffered earlier. "Tell me that they are not hounding on Westchester's front door."

Charles stopped staring down into his cup and looked up, then shakes his head. There was no telling what Erik could be thinking one minute from the next.

"No, I did get the money."

"Ah."

Erik sat down once more, so deeply into the seat that his long legs could sprawl more comfortably underneath the rather small table with no concept of personal space. Their eyes met over the table and Erik's face transformed once more into a lazy smirk and said: "What you must have done to get that money. Did you at least wait until he slid that wedding ring of his onto your finger before you tore the check from his hands?"

The ring on said finger constricted gently once, no doubt Erik's doing. It reminded him of the sick husband he had at home, a fact that Charles had nearly forgotten when Erik walked in. Charles tried his hardest to hide the smile at how accurate Erik's accusation was. He must have done a poor job at it for Erik chuckled into the rim of his cup.

"Tell me about how well you've done for yourself. Come now, don't be shy. You should keep no secrets from me, for I'm certain I know the worst about you." There was a pause filled with the delicate sipping of tea before Erik continued, "Has Sebastian lied about his assets and potential prospects? You know, taking advantage of an omega deserves punishment in my books."

And just like that, Charles found himself talking a mile a minute about his situation to Erik. It felt good just to be able to talk to someone about it. He spoke of the people that owed Sebastian money, enough money that they could be well prepared if anyone attempted to increase the taxes on Westchester. And then the topic turned towards Sebastian himself and all the negative qualities Charles' husband possessed.

"Are you not well fed that you require Sebastian to collect this debt money?"

"Well—" Charles licked his lips and thought about the mill. Any moment now, someone else could purchase that mill for a steal and then the profit that Charles could be making right now would be theirs to pocket. "I could use a little money now."

"And whatever for? You told me yourself that all the taxes on Westchester have been paid for."

"That is indeed true. However what I intend to use the money for is none of your business."

"Now, Charles, you did approach me earlier with the intention of borrowing money from me. And if you require it, I would be most happy to lend it to you. Mind you, without your collateral offer that you most ardently made in jail a little while ago." Erik bared his teeth at Charles. It was too alike a predator and it sent a shiver down Charles' spine.

"Not unless you insist."

"Why, sir, you are the most—"

"I'm certain I would enjoy hearing just which adjective you were going to use, however, I wanted to ease your mind. I have the right to know what you are going to spend said sum on. If perhaps you were looking to purchase some new coats and corset vests or a carriage, you may have the money with my blessing. Consider it a wedding present if you will. But if the money is going to be spent on either Sebastian or your dear Raven Darkholme, I'm afraid I must decline."

Charles was red with indignation.

"Raven Darkholme has taken nothing from me and I couldn't be able to force money upon her even if she were starving. You wouldn't understand how honourable she is, given that you are, well—"

"Must we play this game? I should imagine I would win if we began calling one another names. Miss Letty tells me a great many interesting things about you; the wonderful soul would tell the world's secrets to a sympathetic ear."

Charles stuttered, fumbling for his consonants and his vowels. "Raven is ten times the alpha that you are."

"And undoubtedly worth her weight in gold as you keep reminding me. Hush, Charles. I am certain you'll argue with me on this particular point. However, you can never convince me that Mrs. Darkholme will ever be helpful around Westchester. Her entire breed is far too spoilt: head amongst the clouds, ornamental if you will. You cannot argue with me on this point, Charles, so smooth your ruffled feathers and understand that the words I say are but the truth of the matter."

Charles bit down on his lip, refusing to answer the statement. "Tell me what you intend to do with the money, and see if you can tell me the truth. Or better yet, lie to me and I'll definitely find out about it. I can withstand everything but a lie from you, Charles. Even your tempers and your dislike of me."

"I don't _dislike_ you."

Erik waved Charles words away, clearly not believing him. Charles glared at Erik, for he longed to just walk away from what Erik was offering him here. Erik had the funds to make all his dreams come true, right here, right now. He swallowed his pride and attempted to coax his face into something that resembled pleasantness.

"There's nothing quite like watching your internal struggles, Charles. I know your practicality will win out in the end, but I do wait for the day when your better, sweeter nature rears its head. Of course, when that day does come, I may just have to leave New London. There are already far too many omegafolk who cave into that side of them. Now, let's get back to business shall we?"

"I— I don't know precisely how much I need, but I wish to purchase a sawmill. There is one that I believe I can acquire for cheap. Of course, I'm going to require transportation. So enough money to purchase two wagons and good, healthy mules. And a horse and a buggy for my own personal use as a well."

Erik's eyebrows knotted together. "A sawmill?"

"Yes," Charles plunged forward. "If you lend me the money and I purchase the mill, we'll stand to make a lot of money off of it. I'll give you fifty percent interest on the loan."

"Fifty percent?" Erik chuckled. "What a fine offer."

"Are you— Why are you laughing? I'm being very serious here, Erik!"

"I wonder if anyone else ever realises what goes inside that head of yours, all of them too blinded by your deceptively beautiful face."

"Erik, listen. Sebastian told me of this sawmill off of Islington Drive. The current owner is in a bad way and he wants to get rid of it, but he needs cash pretty fast. And since there aren't many sawmills around these parts. Demand for timber is high with everyone rebuilding, but supply is low— and we could sell the lumber at a really big profit once the mill is running efficiently. The owner will stay and run the mill for a wage. Sebastian wanted to purchase the mill for himself, but with the money he gave me for the taxes made a giant dent into those plans."

"And what is he going to say once you tell Sebastian that you've purchased it? And right from underneath his nose too! And how will you explain to Sebastian that you have borrowed the money from me without damaging your reputation?"

He hadn't seen that far ahead and Charles paused for a moment to think.

"I'll tell Sebastian that you lent me the money. Why should I have to lie to him about it? Money, I've found, is one of the most important thing in the world, and without it a great many things cannot be achieved. I do not intend to go without it for some time. If it is within my power, I am going to have money, and a lot of it, such that the MRA can never take Westchester away from me. Westchester will remain within my family for generations. I am going to have enough to afford a new barn, and bring back apple pickers, and let Hank come up with all the apple recipes that he wants. No one living at Westchester will ever want for anything if I can help it. And little Leon will have everything that he wants and needs. And my family, they will never go hungry. You've never had to live through day in and day out of starvation. You've never been so cold in your life that you had to plow forward and work just to have enough for make sure everyone has at least a mouthful a day."

Erik shook his head, something close to nostalgia flitting through his eyes. "I was in the Brotherhood for nine months, serving them to the best of my capabilities. I don't know any place else that could deliver starvation and the cold all in one neat little package."

Charles set his cup down and barely resisted the urge to roll his eyes. "The Brotherhood, hah! You've never picked apples till you were convinced that your hands would have fallen off, or to weed things out day in day out and— Why are you laughing at me?" He found his hands captured within Erik's.

"I wasn't laughing at you, liebling. I'm just amused at the differences in your sweet outward exterior and your nature. Why, I recalled the first time I saw you at the Darkholme Estate: blue velvet corset vest, highly polished shoes and surrounded by alphas. You reveled in all the attention. Why I imagine you had no idea what was in store for you, since all your thoughts were about how to ensnare Raven—"

Charles tried to pull his hands away but Erik held fast.

"Erik, must you always bring her up in every conversation? You'll never be able to understand her and—"

"And I suppose you know all about Raven Darkholme, don't you?" Erik asked with venom in his voice. "If I'm going to be lending you money, then I can discuss her all I like with all the words that I wish to use in relation to Mrs. Darkholme. And as I do not wish to renew my acquaintanceship with her any time soon, you are the next best thing for things I wish to know about her."

Charles shook his head obstinately. "I do not wish to discuss her with you however and I do not have to."

"Ahh, but you see, there will come a time when you are rich and then you will realise the amount of power you hold over others. And it is obvious to anyone that you still hold affection for Raven—"

"I do not," Charles said quickly.

"Not very convincing with how quickly you came to her defense. Now, does she care for you in turn or has her imprisonment changed that? Has she realized what a gem her husband is?"

Charles opened his mouth, about to spill the entire story about the deed that Raven had, or rather, hadn't done. He closed it quickly that his teeth clicked together, having thought better of it. No doubt Erik would hold it above him once he knew.

"Ahh, so she still hasn't enough sense to appreciate her own son and Mr. Darkholme, eh? And none of her stay in prison did anything to diminish her ardour for you?"

"I do not—"

"But I do." There was something that might have been close to jealousy and bitterness in Erik's voice. Some sort of emotion that had no reason being there. Or so Charles thought. "And you will answer me. She's still in love with you?"

Charles narrowed his eyes. "I don't have to answer anything. But so what if Raven is? You wouldn't be able to to understand her kind of love, not when all you do is— is do what you do with omegafolk that you have to pay for, like that Frost woman."

"So you think I am only capable of indulging in carnal lust?"

He wasn't even denying it! "I only say things when I know it's the truth."

"Hah! Then I must apologise for speaking ill of her love for you. Tell me more about this pure love that is transpiring between the two of you."

"No."

"But I'm curious. Why hasn't there been anything wrong between you and her?"

"If you think that Raven would ever—"

"Ah, so it is the noble Raven who had to fight for chaste love. You really oughtn't give away the game so easily, Charles."

"We have nothing else left to discuss. Get out."

"Oh, but you find that we do, since you want my money and you can't deny that you don't. So why should we stop now when we've already said so much. There's no harm in discussing the relationship between you and Raven." Erik blithely pretended he didn't notice the way that Charles was glowering at him in indignation.

"She loves you for your heart and soul, your mind and ability, and your character, does she?"

Charles glared. Of course, Raven loved him for those qualities. Of course, he couldn't confirm whether those statements were true since he never ventured into Raven's mind, but Charles was convinced. It was the only thing that kept him going at night, that kept him going at all. Raven loved him from afar and only she alone could see things buried so deeply inside of him — his true self — and loved him despite everything. But the way Erik said it, words dripping with sarcasm, those qualities didn't sound so noble when said aloud.

"Ahh, how such a pure love can still exist in such a world, it reminds me of all those bedtime stories my father once read to me as a young boy." Erik looked nostalgic for a moment and took a swallow of his tea. Charles refilled his cup, manners and all. "But I digress. So she has never touched you, her love for you does not contain of the body? It would be the same to her if you didn't possess such pale skin, or those bright blue eyes which could bewitch any alpha. Although with your ability, that shouldn't be too difficult a task. And what of your hips that sway from side to side, alluring and enchanting all the same to all alphas of marriageable age. And let us not speak of your lips, rich and full of colour. The envy of all women for they come naturally in that shade of desirable— well, I shouldn't let my carnal lusts dictate my words. Surely Raven has noticed these things? Or perhaps, if she had, that none of your admirable features stirs her loins."

Charles stubbornly refused to answer. He thought back of the day in Westchester when Raven had embraced him. The way her words had said one thing but her body another, all conflicting signals that resulted in his cheeks flaring up once more at the memory.

A sight that Erik noticed, for his tone of voice quickly lost its teasing lilt. "I see. She loves you for your mind."

"And what if she does?" he retorted coolly. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Oh liebling, she doesn't even realize you have a mind, let alone your strong opinions on everything. Had it been your mind that had attracted her in the first place, she would never have to struggle against your advances, as she must have to keep the love between you so 'pure'. An alpha can admire an omega from afar, their mind and soul, and still do right by their spouse.

"Although I imagine it is quite the hardship for her to keep such honourable intentions what with the way she covets your body as she does."

Charles shook his head, refusing to believe that Raven would be capable of such things, and he retorted: "You cannot judge another alpha if you use yourself as an example!"

Erik shrugged his shoulders, looking awfully pleased with himself regardless. "I've never made my intentions unclear, surely? I've coveted both your mind and body, and I've never been bothered by the pesky idea of honour. If there is something that I want, then I won't hesitate to use all means necessary to get it. Such a tempting hell you must make for Raven that I am almost inclined to feel sorry for her."

"What— What do you mean? Me? How would I make a hell for her?"

"You are a constant temptation, Charles, whether you recognize this or not. So yes, you! But as always, she prefers to have honour over love. But by your description, it sounds like she does not have any honour nor love. Especially nothing of importance if even the thought of her own husband and son do nothing to warm her heart."

"No! You're wrong. She has love! She loves me after all!"

Erik didn't sound convinced as he sneered, "Oh, does she? Well, if that is the case, then answer me one last question and I will give you the money to do with as you wish."

Charles swallowed nervously and hastily took a gulp of his cold tea, watching as Erik stood up and stalked the floorboards like a caged predator. There was something about him that made Charles shiver. Just one last question and then then the sawmill was as good as his. Whatever question Erik could think up of, Charles was going to answer — truthfully or not — and then the business between them would be done.

"If she truly loved you the way you have described, then why are you in New London asking for tax money? Surely, she would have a thing or two to say about the method with which you have used to secure the sum as you did. I would never let an omega that I loved do something like—"

"She didn't know! S-She hasn't any idea that I am here doing what I have—"

Erik interrupted him before he could say anything else. "And do you not suppose that if she loves you the way you have described, then she should have known what you are capable of doing. When you are at your lowest point, and so desperately seeking? You came to me, after all. Hah!"

"But she—"

"Regardless, she clearly doesn’t know a thing about you or of your capabilities if she did not guess it herself without you laying it all out in the open for her to stumble over."

Charles stared at Erik with his mouth open. Of course Raven couldn’t have known. How could she given that Charles was the telepathic one, and he had always been headstrong, set in getting whatever he wanted, whatever he needed. There was nothing that Raven could have said to stop him even if she tried. And then it suddenly occurred to Charles that that perhaps wasn't strictly true. Had things gone differently, he would have never gone to New London, never had thought to go to Erik. Did that mean Erik was right? Should Raven have known her better? Raven— Raven had spoken of honour, of doing the right thing and she would never had known that Charles would be so willing to debase himself for the money. Why, this was most certainly a trick for Erik to come between the love that Charles held for Raven.

Erik stood over him, looking down with a faintly amused smile on his face. All the annoyance and jealousy and anger that he had observed were no longer evident on Erik's face. Once again, all of his emotions safely tucked away.

"And what of it? What transpires between Raven and I is my own affair. It is none of your business."

Erik merely shrugged and then said: "I have always been impressed by your spirit, by your tenacity and your endurance. I would be sorely disappointed to see your fiery spirit crushed by all of the responsibilities you have heaped onto your plate. There's maintaining Westchester that your sick mother can no longer help you with. And then you have your sisters and keeping the servingfolk in line, neither of which will be much help to you as they are the ones looking up to you for your authority and your guidance. And now that you've gone ahead and married who you did, you've now inherited all of his problems too. I imagine Miss Letty will now also come to rely upon you. Your plate is already very full, liebling. You don’t need the additional burdens that Raven Darkholme and her husband and child, her family upon your hands. The Darkholmes could learn a thing or two from the Summers family about taking care of their own."

"What? She isn't a burden and I need her—"

Erik made a noise of impatience. "Are you still talking about that? How much help can she be to you. If she is as much help as you lead me to believe, do her hands look like yours then? I know people, Charles, and Raven Darkholme and her ilk will be nothing more than ornamental. She will be someone's burden until the day that she dies, whether it be yours or someone else's.

"Now, I think we have talked enough about her for one day," Erik paused and brushed some lint off his sleeve. "Now, Charles, tell me how much money do you want?"

After everything that they've said so far. After Erik's insults and petty words, dissecting and trampling all over the things that Charles held close to his heart. After all that and Erik still thought he would take the money!

There were words that rose to the forefront of Charles' mind but they died upon his tongue. If only he could truly tell Erik what he thought about him, but then only those that were truly secure, truly rich could be afforded by that luxury. But as long as Shaw's Emporium was only doing mediocre and Charles was still only scraping by, he would have to swallow his tongue and endure. But there would come a day soon when he could do that, when he had the funds and the means and then he wouldn't have to listen to Erik spout nonsense ever again. Money was power and influence, and it was a lesson that Charles had learnt the hard way.

But with Erik's offer, he would never be poor and that thought brought him immense pleasure that a smile teased its way across his face. Erik must have noticed it, for he smiled as well.

"You look the best when you are smiling, liebling," Erik complimented. "But even better when you are about to perform some sort of devilry. Just for that smile, I will buy you as many mules as you wish to do with as you like."

The front door opened and the counter girl walked in, shaking rain out of her hair. Charles stood up quickly, the change in pressures making his head spin dizzily. He almost fell over had it not been for Erik's steadying hand on his elbow. Charles flushed and stepped away.

"Are you busy?"

"Why?"

"I want you to drive to the mill with me. Sebastian made me promise that I wouldn't go anywhere by myself. Can you come?"

Erik scoffed and turned to look at the wet counter girl. "In this weather?"

Charles nodded, his mind made up. "I want to go buy the mill now, before you change your mind."

The sound of Erik's laughter drew the girl's attention.

"Oh this is grand. Have you forgotten that you are married already? Tongues would waggle knowing that Mr. Shaw and that Lehnsherr rogue were seen driving out into the country together."

Charles smirked, not giving a jot about the implied question about his reputation. "I want that mill before Sebastian finds out that I am buying it with the money you are giving me. Come along, Erik. You aren't of such a delicate constitution that you would be wary of a little rain, right? Be an alpha. Let's go."

Erik smirked and lead the way to his carriage. Professor Jr. trotted obediently next to his heel, barking and howling mournfully at the cold and the wet. They clambered into the cart and Charles was forced to sit closer to Erik's side in order to be shielded from the rain. The bastard had the audacity to smile smugly.

Once Sebastian had recovered enough from his pneumonia, Charles informed him of his latest purchase. Sebastian had predictably not been pleased. He was shocked and appalled once Charles informed him of Erik Lehnsherr's monetary assistance.

Sebastian, like most alphas, was a firm believer in an omega's submissiveness towards their alpha spouse. That omegafolk should always defer to their spouse for guidance based upon an alpha's intelligence and superior biology. As such, it would be impossible for Charles to run a sawmill on his own, let alone based upon judgements made by his inferior omega mind. It was one thing to have his authority challenged — for Charles had not even consulted with him before the purchase — but it looked bad upon him as the alpha in their marriage when Charles didn’t allow him to operate it.

Charles had smiled sweetly when Sebastian had raised his concerns about him going into the lumber business for himself. The impossibility of the matter was not of an omega going into business, for Charles had come to believe that times after war. Charles had once known Sebastian as a narcissistic sort of fellow, prideful of the way he dressed and commanded power. The war had left him a changed man, one that was more timid and broken. Charles had always imagined that Sebastian would have revelled in the destruction and carnage of war. But his husband refused to speak about those times to this day and Charles' had left it at that.

Instead of paying Sebastian's complaints any mind, he worked hard. Charles rose with the sun and came home well past sun down. Driving day in and day out with his pup out past Islington Drive, past Aunt Letty's house to attend to the sawmill. Charles paid none of the gossip mongers any mind for he had no time to care. Not when there was money to be made, competitors to be ahead of, and potential buyers to woo.

He became a familiar sight around New London, for Charles was driven with a single-minded determination of seeing the sawmill flourish.

Sebastian bemoaned that he often didn’t get to see Charles at night, that his bed was empty and cold when he went to sleep. He kept hinting about one day having children, but Charles easily brushed off those arguments and put Sebastian to sleep with an irritated pulse of his telepathy. So what if Sebastian's customers kept complaining to him day in, day out? New London continued to talk about his unomegalike behaviour, of his business sense, of his ability to steal and sell his wares. Sebastian never got to see a cent of all the money he was making out of the mill. The largest portion went into the restoration of Westchester.

Charles' mind was filled with a number of plans now that he had the money to execute them. The warehouses that Bobby had left him had been burnt to the ground when the MRA attacked New London. They would require rebuilding. Despite Sebastian's constant dislike for any of his plans, he couldn't stop Charles from doing as he wanted. He gave a token protest of the idea that his omega spouse would do anything without his express permission, rather than the idea of it. Sebastian had long since given up governing Charles' every move.

He met up with Erik on a near constant basis at Aunt Letty's house, much to Sebastian's jealousy and chagrin. Sebastian bore those visits with much consternation and sarcasm. His thoughts were bright and venomous and filled with regret. Sebastian was, after all, responsible for introducing Erik Lehnsherr to his friends at the Darkholme Estate barbecue all those years ago. On the other hand, Charles adored being in the centre of attention. The easy way with which he spoke to Erik always left him feeling light-hearted. And whether Sebastian hated it or loathed it, Erik was always invited whenever Aunt Letty made roast. And there was no mistake that Erik was visiting just for the food.

To Sebastian, Charles liked to believe, Erik was a constant thorn in his side. Erik was younger and well acquainted with Aunt Letty. There were always little inside jokes and stories that Erik liked to tell. Little observations that Erik had made when he lived with Charles for a short period of time. Everything Sebastian would never be privy to that never failed to make Sebastian jealous. And even before Sebastian was in the picture, people had always been whispering about Bobby Drake's widower and that Lehnsherr scallywag.  Only now Mr. Drake had become Mr. Shaw and instead they were still whispering about Sebastian Shaw's husband and that Lehnsherr fellow.

Sebastian's friends came over less and less. Not because Charles didn't want them to come calling, he was quite happy with guests if he were ever at home for that to occur. In turn, the Shaws were hardly invited out to wine and dine with their neighbours. The lack of forced social contact with Sebastian's friends suited Charles fine. However, Sebastian didn't feel the same.

Charles harboured little respect for his husband. How could he when Sebastian hardly showed any backbone? Sebastian had been successful during the early days after the war had ended, but times were changing. Restoration was well underway and businesses were all capitalizing on the moment to create profit. Sebastian's ideas were old fashioned and Charles understood that Sebastian lacked any foresight into the future.

And despite Sebastian's moaning and stubbornness, Charles wasn't above using all means necessary to get the results he desired. The old days were over — the war had seen to that — and Charles was making money, and a lot of it through sheer will and hard work. The results spoke for themselves, even Sebastian could see the numbers that supported his line of argument.

And so Charles continued to live life getting his own way, heedless of Sebastian's misery and wants.

The MRA kept Genosha firmly occupied with troops garrisoned in and around New London. Troops were always running drills in the early morning when Charles drove out to the mill alone. Charles often returned in the late evening. Only then did these troops show their true colours: drinking and cavorting about with their prostitutes (another profession which flourished alongside the forestry). Charles figured he ought to view the scene as something vulgar, something that only men such as Erik Lehnsherr would lower themselves to enjoy. But all Charles could see was a business opportunity.

As certain as the sun rises in the east and sets in the west, the property prices in New London were rising every day. People were flooding into the city, seeking new opportunities, homes and their fortune and they would need a house. The omega prostitutes, with their bright smiles and painted faces, hair dyed unnaturally blonde and red, and bright clothing; they would follow.

With Westchester well on its way towards recovery, Charles was beginning to think about alternative plans to generate more wealth. Mortgages and lending out money for interest was one thing, the other was to purchase empty lots to build saloons and hotels. The idea brought a smile to his lips, strained as it became when he pitched the idea to Sebastian that night and had it shot down almost immediately.

What would the neighbours think? What would Sebastian's few friends think? What would everybody think? Their reputation couldn't survive another blow at the hands of Charles' radical ideas.

Charles stubbornly refused to sleep in Sebastian's arms that night and closed the door of the guest room firmly shut in his husband's face. His clothes were strewn across the room, uncaring for the wrinkly fate he had inflicted upon them come morning, and threw himself onto the guest bed.

He laid in bed and stared angrily at the ceiling, vowing to carry out his plan. He would talk to whoever owned the empty lots first thing in the morning and make a generous bid. He'd prove to Sebastian and everyone that spoke behind his back that he had perfect business sense. He needn't any more of Erik Lehnsherr's money because he was managing the mill well on his own, and he didn't care what other people thought of him.

 _But if I am to go out and look at property in the morning, who would then look after my sawmill?_ Charles thought, eyebrows knitting together as he observed the outlines of his hands in the dim moonlight. And then it hit him. 'Raven. Raven would be the perfect person to run my mill for me. She could move back here. And I suppose Hank and the baby can also move too.' Consumed by the thoughts of being closer to Raven, Charles ignored whether Raven even had the knowledge to run a business.  If an omega like himself could pick it up, then an alpha as intelligent as Raven could easily.

No doubt the MRA and the Brotherhood would be up in arms about this. They tended to overreact to anything Charles did these days. After all, Charles' reputation was in everybody's black books. Whether it be the MRA or the Brotherhood, they often liked to find whatever little excuse they could to squeeze money out of Charles' accounts.

He set off in the morning, leaving the house before breakfast to get to the train station. From there, Charles boarded the train till he arrived at Greymalkin. Had he written ahead, had he planned the trip at all, Charles would have gotten one of the servingfolk to pick him up. But the few coins he spent on the carriage was well worth it to see Westchester in its former glory, to see the money made off from the mill put into use.

The house was looking more put together. More elegant, and more like its old self before Greymalkin even knew what gunfire or shellfire sounded like or felt like embedded into timber. The walk up the drive was nostalgic: the crunch of pebbles underneath his boot, the jingle of a collar punctuated by the happy yip of dogs, the welcoming chorus from the trees as the wind rustled leaves and branches.

Moira caught him just as he was climbing up the steps into the house. "Master Charles!" she exclaimed, dropping the bucket she had been holding in surprise. "What are you doing here? Why did you not send word? I would have had Remy fetch you from the station."

"Moira." Charles sank into her hug, enjoying the physical contact and the affection that was rolling off her thoughts in waves like water lapping against his toes at the beach. "I should have sent word ahead, I know, but there was no time and I just— I have news that I must share with Raven immediately. Do you know where I can find her?"

Moira gave him an undecipherable look, one that made Charles feel like a young boy once again, a precursor to being  scolded. Charles proudly tilted his chin upwards until Moira remembered her place. She must have saw something disappointing in her study of his face, shaking her head as if Charles were a lost cause. Not that Charles cared what Moira thought.

"If you aren't going to tell me where I can find her," Charles said, impatience lacing every syllable, "I won't hesitate to find out the location from your mind."

Moira matched Charles' stony glare with one of her own, unimpressed by Charles' threat. After all, she was accustomed Charles' words ever since he had been old enough to know what telepathy was. As non-existent as Charles' morals were, there was still an iota that kept him back from outright violating the private matters of others. Moira always said it was because of Master Brian's teaching.

"Mrs. Darkholme is in the study, Master Charles. How long will you be—"

Charles didn't stay long enough to hear the rest of her question as he quickly marched through the hall down towards the study. Moira would likely harangue him later for the particulars later; she was particularly good at that. Charles, himself, was still uncertain as to when he would return to New London, not when he had the opportunity to remain here at Westchester.

Never once did his carefully maintained mask slip as he walked through the familiar hallways, the nervous energy rolling around in the pits of his stomach and left his heart all aflutter at the prospect of seeing Raven's beautiful face once more. Occasionally he would pass a face that was new to him, someone that he had not seen before. Where were they from? Had he been gone for so long that he did not recognize more than but a handful of people? Charles was so deep in thought that it took the person behind him two calls of his name to pull him out of them.

"Mr. Charles!"

It was Remy, looking tanner than he had been the last time Charles had laid eyes on him. He looked healthy enough.

"Remy," Charles greeted snappishly. "Could this wait? I'm looking for—"

"Please, Mr. Charles. It won't take up very much time and it is," Remy paused, flustered. "It's important. To me." Something in the way Remy was looking at him, gravely serious, made Charles pause.

"We'll speak in the study." As soon as they had settled into the old room, Charles sat at his father's chair and gestured for Remy to do the same. "What is it that you needed, Remy?"

"Your mother hasn't been... lucid for some time."

"Could you tell me something that I already didn't know? Stop wasting time."

Remy flushed, rubbing the back of his neck in embarrassment and then cleared his throat. He straightened up until Charles realised just how petite he was next to him.

"I suppose that you are now the head of the Xavier family, I wish for your approval and ask for your blessing if I can marry Anna-Marie."

"Anna-Marie?" How had this developed in the long months that Charles had not been at Westchester.

"Yes. That is if you don't mind the idea of me becoming your brother-in-law. I would never ask of anything from you, Mr. Charles. You have done many things for me already and I have hardly much to offer your sister, but know that I love her."

"Even with her mutation?" Charles couldn't understand how the more physical aspect of their relationship would work, if there was one at all. Then again, he'd never found intimacy within his own marriages (except that one time with Lehnsherr, but even then nothing had happened. Not really). Then again, that was none of his concern.

Charles shook his head, eyebrows furrowed. "Why would I? No, not at all. I was merely startled by your sudden proposition. I had always assumed that you had eyes for Angel." Although it was likely that she was still angry over his marrying Sebastian. Surely she was over that by now?

"Perhaps," Remy admitted at length. "But she's— She's changed. And I've never asked how she felt about me and I always got the distinct impression that she would never have me.

"The thing is, Mr. Charles, we all appreciate the hard work that you've put in: keeping a roof above our heads and all of us well-fed. But you've not visited for some time and so you'd never know what has been going on around here."

Charles got the distinct feeling that Remy wasn't telling him something more important. "What are you getting at, Remy?"

"Angel has," and here Remy paused again, looking guilty. Charles tried his best to keep his telepathy at bay, from going into Remy's mind and soaking everything that he had missed. "She's been thinking of going to join a convent, you see."

"What?" Charles was torn between looking for his wayward sister and resuming his earlier quest of looking for Raven. He did neither of those things for he was stunned by the revelation and stood rooted to the spot.

Remy sighed and looked at the window. "She's all grown up now, high-strung, and she's always been well to do, has never gotten used to the idea of doing without. I suppose one too many trips into Greymalkin has left her green with envy, seeing all the omegas that could afford it walk around with their fancy new dresses. Angel's hot-tempered and you know how she is. While some of the other omegafolk around here have made it a sticking point to wear their worst, she's refused to do the same. Says she wanted all the things that you had, horse and carriage and all."

Charles swallowed nervously and was glad that Remy hadn't given him yet another one of those looks.

"That's not saying that she wouldn't prefer the alpha on your arm as well, seeing as how Mr. Sebastian Shaw had set his eyes on her to be his."

At that, Charles bristled. "How was I to know that he'd have a change of heart?"

The question made Remy chuckle without humour. "You've heard the rumours, I'm sure. Clever with words and in the mind, you are. People have been saying you've changed his mind with your telepathy. I've seen the letter that Sebastian wrote to Angel a week before you left for New London yourself. Inside were words about marriage and love and he was mighty sweet on her."

Charles huffed. "Is that all?" How could Remy of all people be here to judge his actions? The sacrifice was heavy on Charles' part for it tore him away from Raven for so many months. And Charles could hardly believe it when it was his sister of all people. It was but a passing fancy, Charles was convinced. "Did you possibly think that Angel of all people could have done the same in my position? Would Westchester be standing proudly like this were it not for me?"

Shaking his head, Remy lifted both of his hands in a placating gesture. There was no telling what an angry telepath could do. "Now, don't get angry at me. What's done is done now. I'm merely stating the facts here." The corner of Remy's lips twitched upwards, a quiet acceptance that Charles couldn't help but gloat on the inside. "I'm not saying that what you did was good nor bad. Whatever means you used to meet your end is purely your business. And between you and me, I don't think she cared all that much for Sebastian so much as what he represented. He was the means to having fine clothes and a proper carriage. She just wants all the things that all omegafolk are want to have, and I sure ain't going to fault her for wanting to join a convent when you blew that plan out of the water."

Charles blushed.

"So, don't argue or forbid her to go, least of all laugh at her. I think she's made up her mind about the matter."

He didn’t bother correcting Remy. "How do you know all of this?"

"I have heard her cry for many evenings," Remy explained, running a hand over the watch at his wrist. "She suffers a broken heart."

Charles recoiled as if Remy had struck him in the gut. How deep had her sister's affection been for Sebastian? Charles never understood entirely what the concept of love was, not when it came to others who were not gifted with telepathy. But Remy was an honest man, an alpha that was seeking the hand of his sister. He had no reason to lie to Charles, he never did and from Remy's surface thoughts. Marrying Sebastian had sullied Angel's expectations of marrying for love.

"Very well. I won't say anything else about the matter." Charles rolled a pen over the leather bound accounts book. "Was there another reason for you marrying Anna-Marie? You never mentioned it in any of the letters that you sent me."

"Those letters were not the place to be bringing something like that to your attention," Remy said truthfully, "I am sure you would understand the sentiment when I come and say that I know and love every leaf upon the apple trees in the orchard and every stone that makes up this place. Over the past few months, I've worked hard restoring Westchester to its former glory. It isn’t anything like what it was in the past from the stories that Anna-Marie tells me. But I have come to see Westchester as my home."

Charles could relate to the fond look in Remy's eyes, even felt a small burst of affection for him for sharing a love for the one thing that Charles himself loved most.

"It wouldn't feel right," Remy continued, "if I didn't take the opportunity to ask you for Anna-Marie's hand. People would be given more ammunition to talk, what with how many alphafolk residing at Westchester and your sisters being unwed still. The house would feel so much smaller without Angel or the Darkholmes around."

The use of that name got Charles' attention and Remy gave him a measured knowing glance over the table. "The Darkholmes? What about them?"

"They'll be leaving Westchester soon enough."

"Leaving?" Charles couldn't imagine it: a Westchester without Raven there to greet him. "I don't- This is as much their home as it is yours. Surely—"

Remy shook his head, letting out a small sigh. "Of course you wouldn't understand, Mr. Charles. I'm certain she has attempted to explain this to you once before, but Raven hasn't felt like Westchester has been her home for some time. Hasn't felt right. You know her, stubborn through and through, not at all fit for farm work. She's tried, of course. Her mutation doesn't help out on the farm any so she's got to rely on her two hands, and even then she's more like to hurt herself or someone else. I could go on listing about the things that Raven can't do, but then I'd be talking your ear off for a good week. And it worries her that she's an alpha with a family and can do nothing but live on the charity that an omega has shown them, all without doing anything in return."

"Charity?" Charles shook his head in disbelief. "Raven and Hank are welcome to stay for as long as they needed. Forever if that's the case and they know that, surely."

"Raven doesn't see it that way. She knows the extent of what you've done for her, the extent of how much she needs to repay you. That's why the Darkholmes wish to leave Westchester and find work. Apparently they're thinking of moving down south, a friend of hers apparently has some sort of clerk job ready for her."

Charles frowned, feeling his heart pound. Thank the deities above that that he'd arrived in time to catch them. Raven wasn't allowed to go south, wasn't allowed to leave without Charles seeing her again. Even though the last time he had even so much as talked or seen her was that day when they had kissed, not a day went past that Charles didn't at least think of Raven. At least with Raven at Westchester, Charles would know that she was safe and not struggling somewhere cold and hungry.

"And I'm thinking that perhaps the move may be a good thing for her," Remy commented with yet another look which were quite frankly getting on Charles' nerves.

"If she's looking for work then I can arrange something. It's why I came back to Westchester anyway."

Remy shrugged. "Then that's between you and her."

"Yes." Charles hadn't meant to sound as short as he did, but he was anxious to see Raven. Desperate to catch Raven before she left and committed to the foolish idea of heading south without so much as hearing to his pitch in returning to New London with him. "If there's nothing else pressing, would you mind fetching Raven?"

When not a peep came from Remy, and Charles watched as he stood up and left the study, leaving the door closed in his wake.

He was busy making himself useful by going through the accounts when he heard someone knocking at the door. His mind unfurled towards the source and brushed up against the person he had been looking forward to seeing the most.

Raven walked in cautiously, looking every bit as beautiful and resplendent as she had been the first day Charles had met her. On her face was a frown, although that too looked handsome upon her countenance.

"Charles," Raven greeted quietly, and then thoughtfully took the seat that Remy had vacated by the window. "I had heard, well more like felt, you earlier. There's really no mistaking someone with your power. You promised to never touch my mind."

Charles shrugged helplessly, wilting a little that Raven disliked this part of him as much as she does, and said, "You know as well as I do that this is a part of me. I was just taking in the surroundings and getting to know who was at Westchester. It's necessary."

"We lost the war," Raven said tiredly, combing hair off her face. "You don't need to do things like that anymore."

That wasn't true, and Charles wanted more than anything to argue with Raven about that point. Constant vigilance, taking advantage of the situation: those were the things that Charles had gotten to know and use in the changing times. Although Raven had fought in the war, Charles wondered if she had learnt anything just by surviving it.

"The day I don't protect my family will be the day that I die," Charles declared vehemently. He figured  "But this isn't about that. I heard from Remy that you will be seeking work in the south."

"Yes. But I—"

Charles didn't give her any time to finish her rebuttal, refusing to hear a no for an answer. "I want you to come work for me at the mill. I'm sure Aunt Letty would be more than happy to have you and Hank and the baby around, and I so desperately need your help."

Raven stood up abruptly that the chair scraped against the wood and made an unpleasant sound. "No, Charles. Don't you see? I can't. I just... can't."

Charles was silent for a long minute, eyes roaming over the strong, rigid set of Raven's shoulder and the way her fingers curled in her fist. "Is that why you won't look at me anymore? Have I become so haggard that—"

She whirled around, anger flashing in her golden eyes with an intensity that startled Charles. "Haggard? You?" Raven dragged her fingers and let out a sigh. "You know full well that you will always look beautiful to me. But nothing will come of this except to breed more shame within me. I could not be the alpha that would provide for you, I couldn't even go out and steal or— or commit robbery when you, we, needed it most. I'm useless and had it not been for your generosity Hank and I, our child, would have died."

"Raven," Charles said slowly, tiredly, as his heart seized at the words that were coming out of Raven's mouth. "That is all in the past, and we are all better for it, are we not?"

"By no small part on my behalf," Raven muttered underneath her breath, syllables dripping with bitterness. "It amazes me that you would... would be willing to marry an alpha that you didn’t love so as to secure a future for your family. You are truly the bravest omega that I know."

She was silent for a long time after, turning her back once more to face Charles and stare out the window. Charles waited patiently. He always would when it came to matters concerning Raven. Secretly, he  hoped Raven would spout words of passion and lust, compliments that Charles could treasure. And Raven had called him beautiful. There was no doubt in Charles' mind that she loved him, her words thus far was evidence enough. But she had made her stance known that day when they had kissed in the orchard.

"I will not work for you, Charles," Raven spoke quietly.

"But whatever work you find down south would be difficult!" Charles exclaimed, knowing for a fact than any other boss that you'll ever work for. I'll even give you half-interest in the mit that Raven was the type to learn only from her mistakes. "You are inexperienced, Raven, and I would make bigger allowances for this inell."

Raven flinched and Charles immediately regretted his choice of words.

"That's just it, Charles. Don't you see?" Raven looked incredibly sad as she gazed off to her right, perhaps looking at him through the window's reflection. "I need to make a name of myself. I don't want someone to make allowances. I have to learn and begin paying you back for everything you've done for me."

"You can if you work for me. I did what was necessary and I've done my best to shelter in members of the Brotherhood had I not? I would offer them employment all the same."

"You wouldn't be giving them half of your mill to everyone that asked. There are only so many parts of the mill, Charles, and even I can see that you only have two halves of the mill to give away if that is your wish."

"None of that would matter if it's you that's receiving it," Charles said. "Say you'll come to me back to New London?"

"Sometimes, even though you are the one that's able to read people's minds... You are so remarkable, but oblivious." Charles couldn't help feeling affronted by Raven's statement. He'd liked to think that he wouldn't require using telepathy as a crutch, as a mean of paving the way forward into success, but would exploit it regardless. "You have to understand that I've felt.. less of an alpha in these past few months; I can hardly provide for my own family as it is were it not for your charity. Perhaps I would have felt better had your family been indebted to my own in some manner, but it’s not. You were doing it out of your feelings for me, feelings that I can never return. I saw myself as useless, and it hurts my alpha pride, my self-respect if you will. There have been other alphas that went into the war with less fortune than I, and yet, they have done what is necessary to live and survive. That is why I cannot return to New London with you."

Charles stared at Raven, who offered up a wan smile in return that didn't quite reach her eyes, but it was still a smile nevertheless. All was not lost!

"You could gradually buy the mill for me. It is yours if you wish it," Charles explained.

"I will not talk of this matter any more, Charles. When Remy and Anna-Marie get married, I am going to head south, perhaps to Marsfield." Raven's golden gaze met his for one brief moment and then she stalked the threshold of the room quickly, her hand on the handle. This was it. Raven had said no and Charles was never going to see Raven ever again.

There mere thought sent Charles into a dizzying spiral and the sound that dragged its way out of his throat was desperate. Anything to make Raven see his way. Charles threw himself at the small couch of Brian's office and began wildly crying just as Raven took three steps outside.

She hovered uncertainly now, the door hung wide open as she tried to gain his attention and hush his uncontrollable sobs. It was like once he started, it was impossible to stop and Charles buried his face into his hands wondering where and when everything had gone wrong. There was the sound of quick footsteps racing down the hallway from the kitchen and Charles only realised it was Hank when Raven gasped out his name.

"Charles!" Hank exclaimed, pushing past Raven and padding quickly to Charles' side. He set a giant, gentle hand upon the top of Charles' head and pulled him in close. "Oh Charles, what's the matter?"

"R-Raven—" Charles couldn't eek out the rest of his sentence. He broke off into another sob, fingers clutching desperately into the folds of Hank's modest jacket.

"Raven! What did you do to Charles to upset him?" Hank made gently hushing noises. "There there, dearest Charles. You put your head on my shoulder and tell me what's wrong."

"Henry..." Raven's face looked pale even through the deep sapphire colour of her skin, as if all the energy she had gathered had all of a sudden drained from him. "You know how we have spoken of moving south as soon as Remy and Anna-Marie marry?"

Hank nodded, subtle movements in his shoulders. "What is this about?"

"Charles was kind enough to offer employment as a manager at the mill that he's bought..."

Charles scoffed, shaking his head sending his brown curls in every direction. "I offered half-ownership on the mill but—"

"And I never would have agreed to remain in New London what with the new opportunities that was presented to us." Raven sounded tired as if it was a conversation that she'd had often.

"And I told her that I needed someone to take over looking after the mill. I've already run myself ragged between having to drive out to the mill and then come back to the store. And with how busy Sebastian and I have been, we've hardly had any time together..." Charles sniffed loudly. Hank's mind was open to him, and his mind was crying out in indignation that anyone, even his wife, would treat Charles in such a manner. Charles who had done so much to ensure the safety of herself and their son, there was a debt there that had to be repaid and Charles was glad that at least he had an ally in Hank.

"Raven! How could you refuse to do this for him? After all the things that Charles has done for us, for our baby? How could you deny him the help now when he's asked you for it?" Hank rose quickly to his feet, settling Charles back down onto the couch before rounding onto his wife.

"Hank..."

"Why must you hesitate when we owe Charles so much? I would have died a long time ago in New London had it not been for him and Captain Lehnsherr. And he has been kind enough to house and clothe and feed us, our baby, here at Westchester when we had no where else to go. I was nothing but dead weight for so many months after Leon's birth. My heart swells just thinking that this is the one time that we can finally do something for him in return."

"I'm very well aware of everything that Charles has done for us," Raven replied in clipped tones.

Hank was undeterred by it and carried on. "Oh Raven, but think about it. If it means that we can return to New London, we can go live with Aunt Letty again. And Leon will go to school there, we'd be surrounded by friends and family that we've known all our lives. And were we to travel south, well, it's anybody's guess where we could end up and—"

At Raven's frown, the rest of Hank's sentence tapered off. "I never realised you wished to return to New London, Hank. You never said as much when we spoke of leaving."

Hank shrugged. "It's not my place to ask whether my alpha, it is my duty as your omega to follow. I had always assumed that there was nothing for you in New London to return to. But here Charles has come to offer you a place to work, with a position that only you can fill, why it's marvellous, no?" Charles' hands were seized between Hank’s, a look of euphoria crossing his leonine face. "Why I can go see Aunt Letty again and I'll be so glad even to see Mrs Braddock and the rest." His yellow eyes shone with hope, enthusiasm as he spoke of a home of their very own.

Raven and Charles exchanged a glance, twin looks of surprise at Hank's happiness, before looking away. It had never occurred to Charles that Hank would have missed home and longed to return. To be sure, Charles had never forbidden anyone to leave Westchester, but travel did not come cheaply with things as they were now.

"Oh Charles," Hank said, squeezing down upon Charles' hands, "I can never thank you enough for thinking of us when you came to Westchester looking for Raven. I knew you must realize how much I longed for home. Truly, you are the best."

"I—" Charles blinked, unable to feel guilt cloying at his insides. It felt like a deception, no matter what he said.

"Please say yes, Raven. Can you believe we've been married for five years and never had a house of our own? I would dearly love it if we get one with a large enough yard that Leon can run around and play in it. Oh, Raven, please."

Raven sighed, running a hand over her face and said, "I do not have the strength to fight you both. Very well, Charles. I accept," and then she walked away.

Charles was hard pressed to discover what exactly it was that swirled in the pits of his stomach, barely able to reciprocate Hank's euphoria. The victory of winning Raven over hardly felt like one at all.


End file.
